


even if it's gonna break me love; i will make my way to you

by onefortheluna



Category: Gintama
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Amanto Okita, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Another ship i'd risk it all for tbh, Character Death, Clingy Okita Sougo, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love and Hurt, Lovers, Mature but Immature Okita Sougo, Mild Sexual Content, OkiKagu - Freeform, Possesive Okita Sougo, Romance, Smut, Sougo is actually quite emotional, Sougo is indenial with everything, The quiet ones love the hardest, Travelling Space, Unconditional Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onefortheluna/pseuds/onefortheluna
Summary: She's warm in his arms. Sweet on his tongue.For a moment, the heavy dark world outside the safety of her embrace, the cramped walls and open windows -and all the events occuring, and that had occured, within it cease to exist. Not here, where all he see's and everything that matters is blue and red and close.But he knows he can't hide away from it forever. And quite frankly, he doesn't want to hide away.He tells her he's leaving that night.Her blue eyes flicker.She tells him she's coming with.How is he supposed to say no?





	1. colour my dark world you

**Author's Note:**

> So i learnt Gintama ended 😭
> 
> Honestly it's been a while since i had last watched it but I've always loved it hehe I'll be catching up to it as soon i can.
> 
> That being said, i was looking through my notes for any useable, editable, expandable drafts and i found this! Ahh Okikagu. I love em.
> 
> Still, a few things to note are:
> 
> 1\. This is a complete AU but still utilizes the concept of aliens and spaceship and galactic travelling though with some adjustments as well as characters from Gintama.
> 
> 2\. I tend to stray away from writing the characters as they typically are originally because of context, them being aged up and honestly that's just my style.
> 
> 3\. I've utilised the idea of aliens on earth and space and stuff (Amanto ) but other than that this should be considered a full on AU especially since I've made the Okitas aliens who have assimilated to earth too.
> 
> Sorry for the rambling, please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's the only only one left. It's just him.
> 
> Things should be easier. There's no burden to carry. Right?
> 
> The weight of the fallen world on his person begs to differ, as much as he pretends to not feel the mass or anything for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo here's the first chapter.
> 
> Lots of angst, just a heads up. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and let me know your thoughts in the comments! 
> 
> Trigger warning; character death.

* * *

 

> **_"Come just as you are to me,_ **
> 
> **_Don't need apologies._ **
> 
> **_Know that you are all worthy_ **
> 
> **_I'll take your bad days with your good_ **
> 
> **_Walk through this storm I would_ **
> 
> **_I'd do it all because I love you, I love you."_ **
> 
> **_( Katy Perry - Unconditionally )_ **
> 
>  

* * *

 

He's been waiting.

To fall sick, suffer and drop dead. Like his sister.

Yeah, she's dead.

It was bound to happen. They're not from here. Yet they stayed. She stayed, so he stayed too. Now she's gone and he could leave- _should_ leave, but he's staying too.

He has no reason to. But he hasn't left.

He thought he was burdened before.

The responsibility he had, mainly scaring off any male that showed any sort of interest in his sister just came naturally and he found he was constantly at it until they dissipated but that godamned Hijikata- _the persistent bastard_ \- managed to go further than he'd imagined.

_(Who does he think he is, for the likes of him to propose to his sister? He should've not fucked around and put a bullet right below the point of his chicken ass bangs when he first laid his eyes on the shady nicotine addict.)_

Though he definitely was more of an actual burden.To her. She's free of that now.

But _this_ burden, this weight settling over him like the dark clouds carrying heavy drops despair and melancholy above his head. _It's different._

Somehow, he's feeling the true weight of the world and more fall onto him only now. Everything had collapsed and the heavy rubble digs into his back and shoulders.

He's the only only one left. It's just him.

Things should be easier. There's no burden to carry. _Right_?

The weight of the fallen world on his person begs to differ, as much as he pretends to not feel the mass or anything for that matter. 

The week has been a one too long black and white silent film.

From the wait for the inevitable in the stale white hospital corridors to the funeral with random people dressed in black coming over to pay their respect.

He didn't cry. Some people did. Even the skies wept.

Though he was pretty sure that was just the world was mocking him too again.

His sodden dark yukata clung heavy to him. He almost couldn't breathe.

He silently declined when Hijikata offered him an umbrella. He barely looked his way. He had enough over his head already.

Quite frankly, he didn't think an umbrella could shield him at all. He also had nothing to hide. Because his face was a blank slate. He didn't cry. People hid their faces behind tissues and hands. Sobbing.

Yet, _he couldn't cry._

He couldn't bring himself to cry when he felt _nothing_ , felt _empty_ , even with everything weighing him down.

Needless to say, the rain drops and dark clouds only darkened everything more, he couldn't ignore that.

It brought little comfort knowing just how much tears were being shed for her, and that he couldn't even shed one.

Like those people.

Did they even know her? Care for her? _All_ these people? They probably did. But not _truly_. Not like him. Or, and he _hates_ to admit it, or Hijikata.

That fucking dumbass. He never put the umbrella away. He's not sure how he feels about it being clear instead of black like every other one.

At least it's not that much darker under it.

He can pretend it's not there. So he can pretend Hijikata isn't there too. He can also pretend it's actually not raining. He can pretend his sister is alive and waiting for him to get home and that the flowers he limply holds are for her.

But the the tombstone before him begs to differ. His shoulders sink.

She's smiling in the flower garbed portrait. And it hits him again then as lightning strikes. Harder than the last time.

_She really is gone._

Everything in the world reminds him of that so he goes away for a while.

When he feels like he's ready to face the cruel world again he goes to see _her_.

The site of her eyes, so blue and clear, her hair so red and vibrant in this grey world is more than enough to lighten his mood significantly.

He wants to apologise for ghosting but he doesn't. She doesn't let him. She embraces him tightly before he can say anything.

Her hands glide over his tense shoulders and her arm circle his neck to pull him into her. It feels like she's dust off the rubble and tension. He feels _so_ much lighter.

His arms come round her waist and he pulls her closer. He sighs into the cavern of her neck. Comfort and relief spread through his veins. At least she's still here.

The taste of her overpowers the bitterness that had been in him, laced heavily in every, though minimal, interaction he'd had with everyone that week.

He'd told Hijikata he hoped he contracted what had got his sister so he can die next when his idiot of an in law had seeked him out two days into his isolation. He'd considered reporting Kondou to the police when he'd come to 'pick him up for work' but then he recalled he is the police. So he got Otae to beat the crap out of him instead.

He tells her this, faced nuzzled into her neck while they lay sprawles on her thin sheets. She sighs and rolls her eyes and he smiles. He likes this.

She's been silent ever since she opened the door. She knows him well enough to know he'll really talk when he's ready to do so and that he certainly has heard more than enough condolonces over the couple of weeks.

She knows the fact that it makes him sick. _Pity_. Like he's some poor little kid. Though her eyes remain expressive. A whirlpool of blue hues.

He'll miss them.

In them he sees that she isn't sorry for his loss, instead he sees her concern for him. Not his loss.

She cared for his sister, but he's what's still there. No use in bringing up what's not anymore. He knows that. She knows better.

_He'll miss them._

His presses his lips against the top of her flushed cheek when he enters her, a fleeting kiss. Slim fingers caress the nape of his neck and clutch at the tendrils of hair there before she tugs him up and guides him to her lips. He kisses her.

The exchange is wordless like many of their interactions that night especially but they mean more. Like the refreshing sight of her blue and red in his world full of suffocating thick grey clouds, and now more than ever, they speak and give more sense and comfort than any pitiful stranger could.

She's warm in his arms. Sweet on his tongue.

For a moment, the heavy dark world outside the safety of her embrace, the cramped walls and open windows -and all the events occuring, and that had occured, within it cease to exist. Not here, where all he see's and everything that matters is blue and red and close.

But he knows he can't hide away from it forever. And quite frankly, he doesn't want to hide away.

He tells her, head in between her thighs, that he's leaving that night. She's silent for a moment and he's grateful.

But her blue eyes flicker.

She tells him she's coming with.

They stare at each other quietly for a while, seemingly unfeeling. Dull vermillion against stormy cerulean.

But the soft circles he traces into her thigh and the gentle caresses she trails along his jaw beg to differ.

He knows he can't tell her no so he returns to eating her out. This time she doesn't hold back her moans.

He doesn't mind noise if it sounds like that. When it's coming from _her_. When she's chanting _his_ name again and again and again.

He tells her she weighs a ton just for the fun of it and she attempts to kill him by tightening the grasp of her tighs around his neck.

He chokes but otherwise he doesn't mind, a death like that would be perfect. He seems to be masochist when it comes to her.

Eventually she gives up and he can breathe. He rests his cheek on her lower tummy, staring at the chipped wall. Her fingers find their way into his hair and he keeps her thighs over his shoulder.

The weight of her on his shoulder is the one thing he never knew he needed. He could carry her for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee well, how do you like my version of Okikagu so far? There's more to come. Just needs to be edited so if there's anything i can change stuff here and there.
> 
> Anyways do leave a kudos and comment and have a nice day!


	2. stay with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He surmises, rather sullenly, because it's a shame, that they can't cohabitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~
> 
> Second chapter! I don't know how much there'll be.
> 
> But here enjoy destructive angsty and cute okikagu shshsh

* * *

 

> **"Why am I so emotional?**  
>  **This is not a good look, gain some self-control,**  
>  **And deep down I know this never works,**  
>  **But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt."**
> 
> **(Sam Smith - Stay With Me)**

* * *

 

There's a reason he's only ever come to her when he's desperate for her specific warmth and comfort, when his emotions act up or, in some cases, refuse to.

He sucks with people and he's just as bad at feelings. Or feeling. Understanding them and dealing with them.

Sometimes it's easy to really believe he doesn't have any.

He gets into an argument with Kagura the minute they board the ship. 

There's too much emotion flowing and they both handle and display that very differently.

He has her pinned down by the wrist to the tile ground under him as she heaves in all kinds of emotions. He remains unperturbed. Though he's going through it on the inside too.

He _knows_ they can't just fuck it out this time.

He surmises, rather sullenly, because it's a shame, that they can't cohabitate.

They'd already done some damage to the ship. Dents here and there. Wires hanging off the ceiling. Sparks flying. One chair of two has been ripped off the floor like weed. He prepares to enjoy the cold floor as his seat.

She tries to knee him in the crotch. He settles half his weight down on her, trapping her legs. When she writhes he tightens his grip on her wrist. She glares at him through whisps of red. Despite himself, he smirks. She snarls.

He jokes, asking her if she thinks the vessel will even fly by the way it's been fucked up.

He expects a snarky comment. He doesn't expect her to tell him he'll figure it out. _By himself._ He can't hide how taken aback he is.

Somehow it feels like everything is slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

His grip on her wrists loosen and she pushes him, roughly, off her before she gets up and dusts herself off.

He watches her, pathetically on the ground as she walks away.

She's not coming anymore. She's leaving him.

A part of him, a part too large, is _fighting_ to _beg_ her to stay. The promise that he'll be good and behave is at the tip of his tongue.

But he doesn't move. There's a gape in his chest that expands the further away she moves. All these dents in the ship but the one materialising is his the core of his being is the deepest.

He's already accepted defeat. He already plans on flying the ship on autopilot while he dozes off. Knowing damn well he could crash into a meteor. He doesn't mind. At least he'll die dreaming of happier times, if he dreams at all tonight, instead of facing the truth that is his shitty life. _Yes_ , he wants to die.

But then when she doesn't board off the ship and walks into one of the few rooms in it, shutting the door with finality, for the night, a silent ... _well sort of,_ warning to leave her alone while she cools, he stares at the door dumbfounded. Oh.

It takes him a while to stop being so miserable and get on his feet so he can move the damned ship but eventually he does. There's a voice in his head prompting him to go irritate her just for the fun of it but he doesn't. The vessel's walls are soundproof but he could hear her cry, or rather attempt to try not to cry.

It's then he realises, truly realises, that unlike him, she's leaving things behind. People. Friends. Family. He allows her privacy and even prolongs their stay on the planet just a little while longer until her wails dwindle down before he sets off. 

He does end up flying the ship on autopilot but he monitors the panels in one of the few rooms he decided to occupy. He needs to be careful now that he's not trying to kill himself anymore. It's not just him anymore afterall. Eventually everything that's been happening just weighs down on his lids too and sleep catches up to him.

He drifts away on a cold bed.

He wakes up to familiar warmth.

Kagura sits with her back against the sleek headboard next to his laying form, looking over the extended control panels quietly. It seems she'd snuck into the room sometime before. 

He shifts and clumsily drapes his arm over her lap. Pressing his head into her hip, he breathes in her scent. Clean and crisp like the ocean yet mildly sweet and tangy like ripe fruit or blossoming blooms. It helps him calm down and he relaxes into her further.

He doesn't think about having a gruesome nightmare or waking up in hell instead of waking up on the ship with Kagura anymore. With her face glowing in the dark from the panels lights, when she's not shouting like a banshee, she really looks like an angel. His saviour.

She doesn't move, but her hands glide their way through ash blonde strands and her fingertips massage his scalp. His eyes flutter shut.

He's not the only one who feels safer, better, more whole like this. 

Maybe they can cohabitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahh
> 
> Hope you guys liked it! Please look forward to the next one see you~


	3. oh my mayday, this could get out of hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had nothing to do with romantics.

 

* * *

_"It’s dangerous,_

_it pricks,_

_you are like a rose."_

_(Fancy - Twice)_

* * *

The first planet they land on is a trade planet not too far off the solar system they'd just left.

Vital supplies needed to be stocked (weapons and food, _lots of food_ ) and a new ship needed to be acquired. Also Kagura needed clothes. And stuff. He hadn't even realized she boarded the ship without a suitcase. Only with the clothes on her back and her huge ass umbrella. Typical. But then again neither had he to be honest.

So they wade through the busy street, pass everyday humanoids and some stranger looking bunch.

The endless skies are pitch black above and the streets are only lit by many neon fluorescent lights that reflect against the high walls of alarmingly tilted metalic buildings so he guesses it's night time.

Still, he holds her heavy ass umbrella open over their heads, for secrecy of course - he'd corrected her when she'd mentioned how odd it was for a brute like him to be so romantic. He dodged a sharp nailed finger headed to gauge his eye for that.

And also for her own safety just in case. Though he hadn't said that out loud.

It had nothing to do with romantics.

Just like him pulling her closer into his side by wounding an arm around her waist when far too many eyes lingered on portions of her that weren't covered by the umbrella had nothing to do with romantics either.

She shoots him a look and he ignores it.

Instead, he diverts her attention by telling her he can't believe she brought her stupid umbrella but forgot food and clothes. He takes the punch to the arm that momentarily fucks up his sense of balance.

It's all worth it when she discreetly rubs at the sore skin, rather vigorously, trying to sooth it but only irritating the skin more but he doesn't mind.

He pretends not to notice. Though he allows a little quirk of a corner of his lip when she rests her head on the spot. He pulls her closer.

Again, it had _nothing_ to do with romantics.

\--

Watching her eat, he realizes he needs to get a job.

Not to say the thought never crossed his mind, it did many times, but it never mattered because _well_... he could've managed. He's starved plenty. But then this wasn't just about him.

She'd been sobbing pretty much the whole ride, had looked detached and sombre halfway through in bed and appeared to be uncomfortably out of place walking down alien streets earlier. But at the moment, she was in her _prime_ element. Thriving and excelling.

He felt some sort of relief, watching her stuff her mouth like the pig she is.

Somehow, he felt full just watching her eat, and quite honestly he wasn't saying that because he could be too broke to buy himself a meal at this rate.

He decides that he'll go take a look at the Trade Port the next morning. The hotel they're staying in isn't too far from it. One could say in the heart of the city is where they were.

After eating the portion she'd insisted on setting aside for him despite him telling her he isn't eating food she's already chewed and spat out, they head to bed.

He helps her out of her cheongsam and relieves himself of his own attire and sword while she plops onto the bed like a zombie before he slips in next to her already snoozing self, gathering her in his arms.

 _Again_ , it had _nothing_ to do with romantics.

Not even when he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and tucked her closer.

 _Nope_. Not at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tells him he has blood in his hair.
> 
> Instantly, he freezes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 100 years. 
> 
> Anyways, I haven't abandoned this. I think it's one of my favourites ones that are still up here. I will to its completion.
> 
> Here, enjoy horny Sougo, BAMF Sougo, serious Okikagu,  
> playful Okikagu and fluffy Okikagu!

* * *

_Even the sadness of those days,_

_and even the painfulness of those days,_

_I loved all of it, since you were by my side._

 

_And the lingering smell of bitter lemon will never come out of my chest._

_I can't make my way home until the rain lets up._

 

_Even now, you are my light._

 

(Kenshi Yenozu - Lemon)

* * *

He makes his way to the trade post first thing in the morning, which on this planet seems to be earlier since he still feels groggy even after retiring early and sleeping as unbothered as a baby. Nevermind that he woke up on the floor. His back aches a little but he slept fine. He wonders if he's part masochist.

When he left, Kagura had been fast asleep and snoring. He suspects to find her just so, but maybe with her head hanging off the edge of the bed, when he gets back.

It's easier to navigate than he thought. Panels of screens hang overhead the rather large dome shaped metallic facilitation. They're displaying all types of jobs and offers from planets being sold and spaceships being auctioned off. Services being offered, all kinds, and buildings on sale.

There are jobs to look for and retrieve odd and rare items too. In a way, it reminds him of odd jobs. But none of them tickle his fancy.

He makes his way to the counter where a four-eyed green skinned employee greets him one too cheerfully for someone who hasn't even looked away from their screen and continues to type away. It doesn't bother him. He would like less people remembering his face. 

He asks about any other jobs available and the person, feminine sounding, says that all they have available is put up on the screens. He knows better.

It doesn't take too much for him to get what he wants- a sleek threat that causes the alien to freeze and look up at him, and then their cheeks darkening as they flush and hand him a list of better paying, more deadly jobs. It's easy to spot a masochist.

After looking through mostly bounty flyers, he goes with what seemed to be the quickest and easiest, and of course handsomely priced, for the moment so he can quickly head back before Kagura wakes. Somebody wants a trio of terrorists gone, his specialty, and is willing to pay two million. Dead or alive. He takes it.

Again, it does end up being quite easy. Their last known whereabout had been on a torn up spaceship somewhere near this planet and true enough, there they were. Exiting a brothel. He spared the familiar building a glance but did not make any attempts to enter because he had no desire to do so. Things are different. He had a job and a pig to feed at home.

Once he'd gotten to the men, as cliche as it sounded, acting dingy and peeing on metallic walls in a secluded alley, he had asked them if they were who the flyer said they were. Proudly, they admitted while they circled him like wolves. The leader espcially, dog headed, looked ready to maul him.

Well, if they thought they could so much as lay a claw on him, boy did they have another thing coming. Like a sword to their necks. It was over in a second. He sheated his sword and waited for their heads to drop before picking them up.

He leaves the baggage off at a similar but smaller port on the shadier side of town and gets his cash.

The people there give him weird looks when he deposits three large heads, thrice the size of his own, on the counter. Without a scratch on him. They don't question him though. Neither does he care.

He's a millionaire now. That's got to mean something to Kagura. Money means food and she's a whore for food afterall.

He heads back to the hotel and finds the bed empty. So he goes into the bathroom and sees her sitting in the bathtub through frosted glass sliding doors.

By the bitter air, he can tell she's been retching all she ate the night before.

Luckily he'd bought food. He had an inkling that their voyage would begin taking it's toll on her well being. Also he knew she'd be too lazy to order room service.

He eyes the toilet bowl. At least she flushed. No matter how lazy she is.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror when stripping and heads to the sinks to wash off a splatter of blood on his cheek.

Sliding the doors, he tells her to scoot over after watching her for a while.

Whereas she looked sombre and deep in thought at first with her knees to her chest, she transforms into a wild tomcat and snarls at him. He smirks in response. 

She shoots him a glare but other wise shuffles forward to make space behind her.

She settles back into his chest the moment he's in and his hands finds her hips to pull her closer. A hand trails up her arm and pushes her hair aside over one shoulder. He presses his lips to the side of her neck before he pulls away and rests his chin over her crown.

None of them address his erection.

The silence is heavy. He can tell she's got something to say, questions to ask so he braces himself.

Abruptly she turns around and straddles his lap, making sure to stay close but not too close lest she instigate anything by so much as brushing his cock.

She stares at him for a while before her eyes flit upwards and then back to his face. He can't read her expression. But he can see a cloud forming over her flickering true blues.

She tells him he has blood in his hair. 

Instantly, he freezes.

And then he looks down at the milky waters, humming, neither a yes or no or anything substantial, as he draws circles over the swell of her hips. A nervous tic.

He feels her eyes lift off his slightly hunched form before she gets up on her knees, her slick breasts rising above the waters coming all up in his face.

Of course, he stares.

They're a nice set, very nice. He supresses the urge to take one peak into his mouth. Even when she leans forward to reach for something above his head and a hard nipple brushes the corner of his lips. It takes him alot of restraining to not pop one hypnotising bud into his mouth and suck on her tits but he manages, running a tongue over the tingling corner of his lip. He still stares though.

When she sits back down, with a bottle of shampoo, she starts lathering his hair. He watches her, sees all the questions swimming in her mind through her eyes. But he can't make anything out, there's still a cover mist over them. So he waits for her to speak.

After a while, while she's still massaging the shampoo into his scalp, she speaks, avoiding his gaze . She tells him she doesn't mind if they starve, and that she'll look for a job or something to fund, she pauses, them.

The corner of his lips twitch and his hands slide up from her hips to the dip of her waist.

It gets her attention.

He tells her there's no need to starve and that she most probably won't ever, he slips in the fact that he's a millionaire now and the slight widening of her eyes has him smug but he also looks away from her now clear bright blue orbs to avoid answering questions that would no doubt accompany the wonder on the mystery, or not, of his sudden wealth.

He traces circles on her waist.

It's silent for a while before he speaks again, meeting her gaze with resolve after a moment with his thoughts and her words.

He tells her he knows she'll be working, but not for now. There's a finality to his tone he rarely uses on her, at least seriously like now, and he doesn't regret using it.

Even when her eyes narrow and she grips his hair tight instictively. It does stings though.

He meets her gaze unperturbed and maybe a little cold. He means what he said.

She glares at him, lips pursed. Simmering sapphire eyes ablaze. She looks demonic but he doesn't budge. The tension is thick.

Finally she sighs and relinquishes the death grip on his hair, shutting her eyes and opening them again, revealing cool blues. It's a little unsettling but what can he do.

Without warning she grabs the shower hose and directs it in his face without warning. The water he inhales temporarily burns his brain and lungs. She barely acknowledges his choking as she washes off the suds. Some gets in his eye and it stings

She slips out of the bath when he's cleaning the crap out of his eye.

Once she's left, he stares at his lap for a while. Where she had been sitting, now empty. With a mix between a groan and a sigh, he grabs his still hard erection and jerks off.

When he exits he finds her sitting on the window sill, in only her underwear. It's raining.

Wordlessly he drapes a blanket over her and nudges her at her feet.

She pulls her knees to her chest and he sits opposite her, throwing his leg over the pane so they dangle out the window. 

She shifts beside him and then the blanket falls over his head. He glances at her from the corner of his eyes and finds that she sits like him, staring up with the same look from before in the tub, as if she's seeing through the dark clouds and the grey sky.

After adjusting the blanket so it covers them both well, he silently slips his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to his side.

She leans into him, cheek pressing into his chest. He tucks his chin over her crown, thumb tracing nonsense pattern over the dip of her waist.

When he playfully pinches her, she jolts and jabs him in the rib. He almost falls down 100 stories to his death and he hears several cracks.

But he thinks it's worth it because when she nuzzles into his chest this time, he can feel the smile on her lips against his skin. Her arm wounds around his middle and hooks around his waist, her free palm massaging the skin around the bruise on his side. It hurts, she's never been proper gentle, but he's smiling still.

From then on, they watch the rain fall in comfortable silence.

He could live like this everyday for the rest of his life.


	5. you're my end and my beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been sometime hasn't it? Happy New Year!
> 
> Finally updated this. Thank you to everyone who is reading.
> 
> Here were have the usual okikagu banter, abit of drama and spike, a cameo of masochist Sougo and we have our splurging on his woman. In no particular order.

_"Love your curves and all your edges,_

_All your perfect imperfections._

_Give your all to me,_

_I'll give my all to you._

_You're my end and my beginning,_

_Even when I lose I'm winning,_

_'Cause I give you all, all of me,_

_And you give me all, all of you."_

_John Legend - All of Me_

* * *

The space ship he ends up acquiring is well equipped, as it should be, considering it's price.

It's spacious and very futuristic but he manages to get a hang on the controls really quick, surprising the blue tentacled salesman.

It has a couple of well furnished rooms with proper beds- even though he's sure only one would be used. The bath has a water heating system and a tub- that floored him. The tub.

And there is the kitchen. He remembers the look of ridicule that had crossed the blabbering salesman face when he'd cut him off his exaggerated explanation, asking him to show him the best space ship with the best kitchen. 

The kitchen is... _well_. Neat. He doesn't know much about kitchens but the presence of sleek over head cupboard and counters, an oven and dishwasher, a refrigerator and a stove along with a sink lets him know that it is should prove to be more than just efficient. It's better than the kitchen at her place back on Earth. That should mean it's good.

All in all, he doubts the salesman scammed him. He wouldn't dare.

Anyways, he'd manage to fill the cupboards and refrigerator to the brim and he thanked the heavens they all had sturdy locks. He only hopes they're sturdy enough to keep the content in should they cross a particularly bumpy part of the galaxy. It's better that she doesn't know just how much food is being stored this way too. She'd eat her way through them all like there's not tomorrow and get herself silly sick.

He's feeling abit smug when he walks her to where he had parked the vessel, umbrella held up in one hand and jingling keys in the other.

The streets are busy still and the roads are slick from the rain although it had stopped sometime ago.

She almost slips a couple of times ahead of him. Everytime he tried to help her she hissed at him so he gave up. So he snorts at her instead everytime she skids on her new shoes. They're practical slippers. Simple, but she'd literally fawned over them when he'd tossed them at her, not without shooting him a glare of course.

She was pissed. Still is actually. But he's glad to know the tension from the scene earlier in the bath had dissipated.

Instead, she'd lunged at him when he told her he bought them a new ship. He thought at first she was embracing him in happiness, but she literally began clawing at him. He let her until he had enough and had to sedate her. The scratch marks on his arms still sting. He thinks her nails are laced with poison but she just doesn't know it.

There's a slight distance between their bodies because of their little scuffle but he doesn't mind walking behind her. First it's safer he thinks, also the way the skin tight black material of her new outfit hugs her ass is great. It's a splendid view when the wind blows.

She flips him off over her shoulder, already feeling where his gaze had strayed and he simply chuckles before he places a hand on her hip and pulls her into the hard planes of his front, her back flush against his chest before his hand smooths over her hipbone and splays over her exposed midriff under the cloak, holding her in place even though she fights her natural instinct to lean back into him to instead of attempting to flee but he doesn't let her.

If she'd looked back, she'd noticed how his expression had darkened when his grip tightened.

She's about dig her nails into his hand when it happens.

A motorbike- or at least it seems to be one- a heavy and bulky scrap of metal, eerily so fast, zooms past the street she'd almost stepped foot on. It leaves a gust of strong hustling wind and black smoke in it's wake.

She frozen where she stands. So is he.

She stares at the spot she'd been standing on for one second before he'd pulled her back, only for the vehicle to zoom past one second later.

 _She would have still been there. And it would have taken her.._. she shudders.

He stares at the spot too before he lowers the umbrella to hide them from passerbys as he places a kiss on her trembling shoulder. He lifts her hood over her head and adjusts it so it's snugger against her form, hoping it eases the shivering. He doesn't notice how his own hands shake. Wordlessly, he provides her comfort though his own heart pounds harshly against his chest, against her back.

From then on, they walk hand in hand, and the space between them dissipates. 

They're closer than ever. The need to feel familiar warmth, to know that they're close enough to each other to prevent anything like what happened earlier, to protect each other, is very strong.

Neither one of them complain about the vice grip they have on each other.

The trembling had ceased and the hold keeps them alert of each others presence, that they're there and alive, and not a splatter of blood on some foreign street or a headless body behind some dingy alleyway.

The assurance and relief it provides is stronger than the bone crushing grip and the pain it elicits. They barely feel it.

Wordlessly, unconsciously, their bodies are letting them know just how much they need each other.

In this cruel universe, they've only got each other holding them down.

_If one of them ..._

His eyes narrow as he looks over his shoulder, in the direction the bike had sped off.

His heart clenches and all he sees is red.

He won't let that happen. He'll make sure nothing like that happens again. He will.

He looks down at her and his shoulders relax.

She's still here. With him. In his arms.

He'll keep it that way. No matter what it takes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be ending soon. I'm not sure how to proceed. Any suggestions?


	6. you don't hold, so I won't hold back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! I'M BACK! 
> 
> It's been forever but it's here so all is good. Thank you for being patient with me, to anyone who will still read.
> 
> Heads up!   
> \- smut ahead teehee you know me  
> \- also, sougo is quite phsycotic, perhaps rightfully so  
> \- kagura knows this and roles with it, she's a little loco too #otp  
> \- they love each other to death and show it how they knew best!

* * *

_Loving and fighting_

_Accusing, denying_

_I can't imagine a world with you gone_

_The joy and the chaos, the demons we're made of_

_I'd be so lost if you left me alone_

_(Chord Overstreet - Hold On)_

* * *

As soon as they board the ship, they're on each other.

Pieces of clothing are messily strewn across the floor, some ripped and torn.

He takes her in the first room he sees.

Muscular arms hold her so tight she could break, just to keep her there, and sharp nails dig into muscle to hold him down, clinging onto him as if he could dissipate into thin air and scatter in the wind before her eyes.

Because that's how it feels.

The affair is aggressive as it is passionate.

He's kissing her senseless and she's doing the same. He can taste her blood on his tongue, mixed with his own and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more.

They both can barely breathe and the thrill overwhelms the unspoken fear.

Too many streaks of scarlet colour his arms and back where she'd held onto him. Too many blotches of deep violets and blues mar her hips and sides and waist in the shape of his fingers.

He doesn't cease rocking into her even after they've both come again and again again, even as muscles spasm from exhaustion, in more ways than one.

Just holding hands isn't enough.

There's a more regular, familiar assurance in the way her hands find their way around his neck, his own hands holding onto her torso. In the way he fills her up and in the way she's so warm and wet and tight around him. In the way she gasps into his chest and in the way he grunts into her neck.

The scent of their intimate union, heated and desperate sex, heavy in the air. In the way their scents mingle with it, spicy sweet strawberry and warm citrus cinnamon. The blood, sweat and tears across their skin as they chests glide against each other. The waves of red stark against the sheets no matter the colour, the heavy lidded deep black blues looking up at him as he fucks her.

That's what he needs. To know she's there. To see and hear. To feel and touch.Not just lightly.

He needs to know that if she could disappear when he blinked, which he doesn't think is wholly impossible, he would be holding onto her like a lifeline because that's what she's come to be. 

He needs to see the marks, feel them on him. He needs to hear her respond to him, to hear her heavy breaths echoing his. He needs to be inside her, enveloped in her warmth. He needs to breathe in her scent, to know it's mingled with his. He needs to feel her body flush against his with no hindrance. He needs to see, the red across the sheets and blue peering up at him.

For him to be assured that she's there and not anywhere else, that she won't go anywhere else, at least not against her will. That's the assurance he's used to. That's the assurance he trusts. That's the assurance he needs.

He slumps over her, still buried in her. She doesn't move him, instead she threads her fingers through his hair and smooths away the tension at his shoulders.

Whereas on any other day his weight over her after such a heated session would have left her feeling too smothered for cuddling, leading to her tossing him off her person, she finds it provides her with comfort and eases her swiftly into slumber.

The fears from earlier cease to exist gradually.

Despite everything, above all else and the events of that night. 

The greatest assurance of her presence in his life is in the slow paced beat of her heart against his ear. And for her it's the very real welcomed weight of him over her.

They sleep unperturbed in each others arms knowing they'll be the first thing they see the next morning.

Except she wakes up to no weight above her.

She sits up from her sleep, panicked, eyes searching the room frantically.

Getting to her feet she stumbles towards the door in a haste and swings it open with an inkling of dread rapidly blooming in her chest, only to pause and let out a sigh of relief.

He's standing over the control panels, flicking switches every now and then.

She looks at the running time above his head, it's been one hour and some since they departed. The cold sheets upon her arousal tell her he'd been out of bed for over one hour. Had he gone somewhere?

She watches him silently and notices that he's wearing shoes. He'd really went out. Unconsciously, her fingers come to curl around the cold door knob.

Where had he gone? 

He can feel her eyes on him, assesing, pondering. Truthfully, he can't really bring himself to be nervous or on edge.

Maroon eyes stare blankly at the reflective surface between the buttons and switch.

He'd made sure this time he'd wiped away every trace of blood.

If there is one thing he didn't give a fuck about cleaning up it's the mess of bloody, tattered bulky hunk of meat and steel at the city's red light district.

He'd done it to collect the bounty on that head, but more so just because he didn't want that thug riding his ugly bike around anymore, knowing he could kill someone who meant something to someone else and not care.

Knowing it could've been her.

Involuntary, he shudders. But then he steels himself with a clench of his fist and reminds himself that everything is okay.

He looks over his shoulders at her and she meets his eyes.

She's here.

He smirks, telling her she should go back to bed. She needs the beauty sleep.

When she tosses a part of the ship at him, he doesn't dodge. His skull throbs but he relishes in the very real, very present throb.

Call him a masochist but he'd take this over nothing any day.

She sits him down on the bed after scurrying in and out of the room with armfuls of medication and he complies, leaning back on the matress as she worries over the wound she'd inflicted more than he does.

She aggravates the bleeding wound further when she attempts to rub some foreign salve onto it with her heavy hand but he hums, eyes shut calmly.

He's basking in it, all the feelings she stirs in him.

He doesn't want to think it, but there will be a day when he forgets how her hands felt on him, or just how deadly strong her grip can get or how she tastes on his tongue, because it would have been so long since the last time he'd seen or held her.

He'll take all he can get now.

Even the sudden pause and pin drop silence that ensues when her hands halt on his scalp and he feels her stormy blues burn holes into the toe of his shoe over his shoulder.

Ah, he'd missed a spot.

Quite frankly, he still has no regrets.

He'd do it again.

**Author's Note:**

> So like i said i haven't watches Gintama in a while and this was originally a series of very short drafts that i expanded to my capability so forgive me if it seems too AU.
> 
> I hope you like it anyways if you're an Okikagu enthusiast like i am, and do stop by in the comments and kudos if you'd like more Okikagu in the future. (I've got quite some of them in my drafts lol)


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